


Bobimus Prime

by Leximuth



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, lost light AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 12:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leximuth/pseuds/Leximuth
Summary: Primes are just popping out of the woodwork these days.





	Bobimus Prime

 The general consensus was that the Matrix had gone a tiny bit insane. The whole thing with Optimus and Rodimus was bad enough - and no one really had that story straight yet anyway - but to grace an Insecticon? Scourge of the planet? There were more than a few rumors that he must have _eaten_ the Matrix to have Primus in him. The other Primes (THE OTHER PRIMES, for Primus' sake! A plague of Primes!) did what they could to handle the fallout, but really it was better for everyone when the Insecticon Prime apparently decided to go with the Lost Light.

Apparently, because he still hadn't spoken. Ratchet was nearly certain he could, now, and Optimus had said once that the Insecticon was far from voiceless. The strange Prime (well, former Prime, technically, but no one was talking about how all the Primes were former now)  simply made his way onto the ship and didn't leave.

It was Sunstreaker who trailed after Bob now, small and unnoticed in his shadow. He watched his Prime (HIS Prime, frag and shrapnel - that had a whole new meaning now that his pet was all grown up, didn't it?) and no one looked at him twice. The Insecticon was a Prime, after all, and what Prime would wander unaccompanied? Sunstreaker was the only one who knew with utter certainty that Bob simply let him tag along.

The thing was, though, the thing was... Bob was still Bob. He'd lie down at Sunstreaker's feet and drop his huge head into his guardian's lap, four yellow optics glowing contentedly as he rumbled his happiness. His lower arms, once spindly nothings, were as strong as Sunstreaker's own now and fully capable of reaching all of his own body; nevertheless he'd roll over and demand belly rubs at the slightest provocation. Sunstreaker had to stretch to reach the good spots but they still earned the same wriggle. Bob still cocked his head and watched attentively when Sunstreaker, in a rare mood, needed to pour his heart out.

Sunstreaker was  _ still _ the only one who saw comprehension there.

 

\---

 

The bridge of the Lost Light was a chaotic mess of shrieking alarms and screamed curses and something had exploded and Hot Rod was bleeding and grinning at the mine-strewn asteroid field and the pirates who had so obligingly herded them there and then,  _ then _ the shit hit the fan. And somewhere in all of that Sunstreaker heard someone (he'd later think it was Ultra Magnus but he could never be sure, but held it against the uptight drillbit anyway) say, "Get that giant hunk of junk off the bridge!"

Bob caught Sunstreaker in one hand before he could do more than shift his weight, before Sunstreaker even realized his own intent to  _ slag the SIC _ . And then Bob strode forward, reared up over Ultra Magnus, and simply shoved him to one side.

Bob didn't even look at Ultra Magnus, but half the bridge stared for a split second. Ultra Magnus sprawled out in shock, the Insecticon standing tall over the Magnus' tactical panel --

Not over the tactical panel.  _ At _ the tactical panel.

All four clawed hands swept across the screen with dizzying speed, rewriting predictive courses on the pirates and calling up offensive strategy. Sunstreaker  _ recognized _ it in a burst of shock. It was them against the Swarm, written out in glyphs that Bob had no right to know. No one had ever taught him.

They won.

Sunstreaker gave Bob special post-battle belly rubs. His Prime wriggled with all six limbs flailing.

 

\---

 

Bob started holding conferences with Hot Rod. Well, that was what Ultra Magnus wrote them as in the schedule book (the private Primely one that no one even knew existed except for Ultra Magnus and now Sunstreaker because they were both locked out of the conference room where, apparently, the Primes were running over their allotted meeting time). As far as Sunstreaker knew the Primes would wrestle until they fell over and then just kind of... cuddle. On the floor. It seemed to keep them happy. No one could tell them no, anyway. Go ahead and try to tell either Prime they couldn't do something. Reverse psychology never worked so well.

 

\---

 

People started coming to Sunstreaker for advice. He couldn't fragging figure out why, because he never said a slagged thing worth hearing. He didn't even want to listen to them in the first place, but Bob had some special sense for that kind of person - he'd practically sit on them, demanding scritches behind his antennae, and Sunstreaker just got stuck there with him. It was frustrating. It was also, as Rung pointed out, genius. Not on Sunstreaker's part - the genius was Bob.

"He's using you," Rung told Sunstreaker. "Very cleverly, too. They're inclined to think of him as nonsentient despite evidence to the contrary, and so he can offer emotional support and physical contact without the difficulties of forming a supportive relationship with a mech. They think they're talking to you, but it's really Bob providing the support they need."

Bob looked up from where he'd contorted himself to wrap around half of Rung's office furniture. Sunstreaker absently patted his head and the bug settled back down with a soft purr.

"It seems to be a mutually satisfactory relationship," Rung said with a smile.

"I just want them to leave me alone," Sunstreaker grumbled.


End file.
